


Steel

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Lifted Characters, F/M, Flirting, Humour, Period-Typical Sexism, Swordfighting, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Theon gets challenged to a fight.





	Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 4 of asoiaf rarepair week, prompt: "Fight me." "You're so small though."

Hearing random slashing coming from the courtyard in the middle of the day isn't entirely new to Theon. He reckons that's in the Starks' nature: when they're pissed, they're more likely to take it out on a straw dummy than to actually express their feelings to anyone. Not that he should judge. Curious, he pokes his head into the armoury, wondering who it is.

If it's Robb, he reckons, he'll take the boy out for a drink to get his mind off whatever's wrong. If it's Snow, he'll poke some fun. Either way, it's not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

However, the figure he sees standing in front the target, steel in hand, is too short to be either of them – too short to be any man, really. He blinks, and notes the boys clothes whoever-it-is is wearing, but also their hair, long and tightly braided behind their neck. He snorts. “Something the matter, Underfoot?”

Arya stops, and spins round in alarm. When she notes who it is, she relaxes a little, but still glares at him. He knows she thinks she's too old for that nickname, almost of marrying age now (although she would hate to hear it described as that) – but luckily she's never grown much taller than when she was twelve, and so it's still reasonably accurate.

She gives a heavy sigh of frustration. They've never been particularly close, him and Arya, but apparently she's annoyed enough that such a fact won't stop her unloading upon him anyway. “Jon and Robb won't help me train!” she says, shaking her hands to emphasise the point, and hence shaking the sword around dangerously. Theon takes a subtle step back. “They always used to, but now, no, I'm too old, I'm meant to be _ladylike_.” She spits the word like it's a curse. Theon is mildly surprised, but he does see Jon and Robb's point: Arya's nameday is but a few weeks off, and everyone is preparing for the celebrations, although he gets the impression she's not looking forward to it – mostly because the suitors will start flocking in then. “You'd think Jon would take any excuse to piss off my mother, but no,” she pouts.

Theon blinks. In his experience Jon seems to try very hard to avoid pissing off Lady Stark, which only ever seems to piss her off more, but that's neither here nor there. “Well, you are pretty much a woman grown now,” he says, which only makes her glare at her fiercer. “You have to understand...”

“I'm grown enough to cut you to pieces if I wanted to,” she tells him, and Theon is taken aback. Er. Has she really practiced that much behind his back? “Actually, that's an idea.” Drowned god, this cannot end well. “Grab a sword, Theon.” Arya grins, and Theon wonders if she's actually gone mad. “Come on. You're the brave one round these parts, aren't you? Not afraid of my father shouting?”

Inexplicably, Theon finds himself blushing. Yeah, he likes to think of himself as brave. And no, he's not afraid of Lord Stark _shouting_. That's not to say he's not afraid of the man in general, however. “I'm not sure that's a good idea,” he mumbles, and then clears his throat, embarrassed by how timid he sounds. “I mean, I can't fight you. You're so small.”

“Oi!” Arya shouts, and Theon can't help but grin at how irritated she is by that – mostly because it's true, he reckons. She huffs. “You're just saying that because you know you're not as good with a sword as Jon and Robb,” she says. “I could actually take you.”

Now it's his turn to be irritated. “That's not true!” he insists. “I'm a better fighter than either of them.”

“With a bow an arrow, when you can stay miles away from who you're fighting,” Arya drawls, a grin spreading across her face. “Come on, you're too much of a coward to fence a little girl.”

Theon swallows deeply, angered by the words. But he can't think of anything to say to her. He's not a coward, of course he's not. He's just also not so stupid he's going to risk injuring his warden's precious youngest daughter. He doesn't want to injure Arya either. She's a lovely girl, for all her wild boyish ways, and if he did something he knew he shouldn't and she got hurt, he thinks he would feel very bad about it.

That thought seems to come from nowhere, and it catches him off guard. Looking at her, in her tight men's leathers, the gods only know where she got them, he suddenly realises she looks good like this. The boy's clothes show off her womanly curves brilliantly. It was always Sansa he used to think of marrying, although he long sinced realised that was never going to happen, but Arya too has grown into a beautiful woman.

 _Shit_ , thinks Theon once he realises where his mind has gone. It's not like him to shy from the thought he finds a woman attractive – any woman. But this is different. She's not some woman, she's Lord Stark's daughter. If he puts a finger out of line, he'll have his head on a spike. And she is still young. He's known he since she was a babe in arms.

Fuck, how can this possibly end well?

“Right, that does it,” says Theon, his mouth taking over from his mind, reaching for the pile of swords in front. “Prepare to have your little arse kicked, my lady.”

And Arya grins wider at him, having gotten exactly what she wanted. “Steel up, Greyjoy.”

 


End file.
